The First Number
by randomitegirl
Summary: "Nathan took a moment to steel his resolve before reaching down to grasp the gun he had bought two weeks ago... Steeling his resolve, he pushed the door open to follow them." Once the Contingency had been coded and the Machine back online somewhere in the west, the Machine sent Nathan the first number he could do something about. But could he succeed? Episode tag for One Percent


Head Notes: Hey guys, it's me again. So ever since the episode premiered, I have wondered what happened to the first number that Nathan worked. Throughout the following episodes there were little clues about her and what may have happened but no explicit explanation. So this is me figuring that out. Enjoy!

The First Number

Nathan sat in the car, the car turned on just enough to provide heating. Though the occasional pedestrian walked by the car, the street was mostly deserted. It felt uncomfortably stuffy, but it was too cold outside to wait out there. And in any case, he wasn't here to be comfortable, he was here to save someone.

He looked over the file he had compiled on Anna Sanders. It had taken some digging, but he had found that Anna had filed two restraining orders against her ex-boyfriend after a nasty break up. He'd followed her the last three days, and if her daily schedule was a pattern, she would be leaving soon. Sure enough, a moment later she exited the door, lightly bouncing on her feet as she walked down the street. Nathan smiled as he watched her. She seemed so full of life.

His next thought didn't even have time to formulate before a dark figure caught Nathan's eye. A hooded young man fell in behind her, his gaze fixed on Anna's back, his hands conspicuously clenched around something. Nathan's heart began to beat nervously as he realized that this may be the threat against her.

Nathan took a moment to steel his resolve before reaching down to grasp the Glock he had bought two weeks ago. He hated that he had to resort to guns, he'd never wanted to kill anyone. But he was well aware that he was no Batman. He wasn't exactly young anymore either. If he had any chance at helping Anna or anyone else, he had to have a gun.

Steeling his resolve, he pushed open the door to follow Anna and her stalker. The chilly air nipped at him, causing him to pull his coat tighter against himself. But he kept his eyes on the back of the man's head. He couldn't risk losing them. They turned into a dark alley way and, though it sent chills down his spine, he followed them.

The hooded young man took his hand out of his pocket and picked something up off the ground; a metal pipe, maybe. He quickened his pace and Nathan responded likewise. The young man raised the metal pipe, the tension in his muscles a tell-tell sign of his intentions.

"Don't even think about it," Nathan warned, raising his gun. The young man stopped, momentarily stunned. Anna, however, whipped around in surprise. She screamed as the young man suddenly threw the metal pipe at Nathan. The cylindrical edge cut him painfully above his eye, catching him off-guard.

Before he could get his bearings, the young man closed the distance between them and tackled Nathan to the ground, the blood oozing from his cut blinding him in one eye. The gun fell out of his hands and Nathan could sense the young man groping for it. Disoriented as he was, Nathan fought back using every self-defense move he could think of. He rammed his elbow into the young man's side, catching him in the kidney. The young man grunted in pain, but instead of backing down, all Nathan could see was a hardening of his eyes. A savage punch to his cheek distracted him long enough for the young man to get his hands on the gun.

"Anna, Run!" Nathan shouted, grabbing the gun as well. Nathan pulled and twisted the gun, trying to pry it out of the young man's hands. He realized with dawning horror that the young man was trying to do the same, a result that would most likely end badly for both him and Anna. And worse, this young man was stronger and more experienced than he had ever been.

Pushing that unpleasant thought out of his mind, Nathan focused on getting the gun back. He fought to get up on his knees while still clinging to the gun. The anger in the young man's eyes grew as he threw his elbow at Nathan's chin. Nathan's head snapped to the side as he lost his grip on the gun. He landed hard on his side as the young man's eyes ignited in victory. Nathan's eyes fixed on the metal pipe just within his reach. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the young man's shadow point the gun at him. He realized it was now or never.

His fingers closed around it as the young man cocked his gun. Narrowing his eyes, Nathan swung at the young man as hard as he could. The gun went off just as the pipe struck his temple, spoiling the young man's aim. The bullet whistled past as the young man crumpled to the ground beside him.

Nathan rolled the young man's unconscious body off his and waveringly got to his feet. Blood still oozed from the cut above his eye and on his cheek, both of them stinging like mad. He wiped the blood from his eye, wincing as he brushed his cut. That definitely needed to be taken care of once Anna was safe. _Wait_, he suddenly thought, _where is Anna?_

He whirled around as he heard someone gasping for breath. His stomach dropped as his eyes fell on Anna, lying on her side, blood pouring from the bullet wound in her side. _The bullet_, he realized, _it had hit Anna._

"Anna," he called out, crashing down beside her. He turned her over to see the wound. He didn't know much about gunshot wounds, but it looked bad. She needed a doctor and fast.

"Wait, here, I have a car parked just a few blocks away," he said. "I can get you to the hospital."

"No," she gasped, stopping him. Her eyes pinched tight in agony. "Please, don't leave me."

"I'll be right back, I just need to get my car," he said, trying to be reassuring.

"I don't want to die alone," she whispered. "Please, stay with me."

"Alright, I can carry you," he said, putting his arms behind her neck and legs. He lifted her off the ground. "I need you to hold on to me. Can you do that for me?"

Anna gingerly put her arms around his neck, wincing as he jostled her at every step. Her blood began spilling on his suit at an alarming rate. He walked as fast as he could, refusing to give up. There had to be something he could do.

"Who are you?" Anna asked weakly as he carried her.

"My name is Nathan," he told her.

"How do you know my name?"

"A friend told me you were in trouble," he said. "And I wanted to help."

Oh man, when had carrying people become so difficult. At MIT and even after graduation, he could carry a lady for miles. Had done so on a date camp out in the woods when his date had twisted her ankle on a hike. He'd carried her over uneven ground for two miles, and still had the energy to build a small fire and cook some dinner. But apparently 35 years of aging was not forgiving on strength or energy. He stumbled as his foot suddenly stepped off the curb but caught himself before he could fall.

"Are you alright," he asked her. Her blood had already soaked through his shirt and was dripping down the arms of his sleeves.

"Why are you doing this? You don't even know me," she said.

"Everyone is relevant to someone," he said. His car was just up the street.

"Have you helped many others?" she asked.

"No," he answered. "This is my first time."

"First time doing what?" she asked.

"Honestly, I don't know," he answered honestly. "You weren't supposed to get hurt at all. I was supposed to stop you from getting hurt. I failed at that. I might have even made it worse."

"Nathan," she gasped, her grip on his neck weakening. "I just want to say thank you."

"Don't thank me, yet," he replied.

"I don't think I'll get another chance," she gasped.

"You will," he stubbornly insisted. "Just hold on."

"Nathan, don't give up," she hissed so silently he could barely catch it.

With a jolt of horror, he let himself fall to the ground, gently laying her on the ground.

"Anna, stay awake, stay with me." He desperately shook her, trying to wake her.

Her eyes fluttered open.

"Don't give up on trying to help people," she finished, gasping hard.

"Oh, my gosh," a sudden voice said. Nathan looked around and saw a woman standing a few feet away, covering her mouth in horror.

"Call an ambulance!" he ordered. "Now!"

The woman jolted out of her shock and dialed 911 on her cell. Amazing how people had to be told what to do when someone was dying. He looked down at Anna, her chest barely rising and falling.

"Hold on just a little longer," he pleaded.

"Thank you," she mouthed, her eyes sliding closed for the last time. Nathan's heart stopped.

No. No, no this could _not_ be happening. He shook her.

"Anna!" he called out. He shook her, desperately trying to revive her. But it was to no avail. She just hung limply in his arms as tears blurred his vision. "No, no, no, this wasn't supposed to happen."

But it was happening. He hadn't made any difference. Anna Sanders had died regardless of his efforts. Maybe he'd been fooling himself when he'd coded the Machine to give him the irrelevant list. He wasn't a hero. He'd probably made it worse by moving her so recklessly. With another jolt of horror he realized that she had been shot with his gun. And the young man had been able to get his gun because he'd hesitated. He'd waited to see what would happen too long. He hadn't wanted to kill the young man. Even when that young man had become a threat to him and Anna. Only when his survival instincts had kicked in had he aimed to kill. And by then it had been too late. Who was he fooling? He wasn't a hero. This failure proved that. He stood up, wiping the blood and tears from his face.

Time seemed to disappear. He stood there, barely noticing the frigid temperature as the first responders loaded Anna onto the gurney. He stood there as the officers arrived on the scene. They would trace the bullet to his gun eventually. He had to make sure that they knew the truth. He owed Anna that much. He told the officer on the scene about the young man in the alley.

"She was in trouble," he explained. "I had to help her. Instead, I just made it worse."

"That's the problem with playing superhero. Everyone thinks it's all praise and glamour but it's just as likely to get you killed." The officer explained sympathetically.

"The gun he shot her with," he explained. "It was mine. I tried to save her, but I didn't make any difference."

She smiled sadly, sympathetically.

"For what it's worth," she said, "I'm just glad she wasn't alone when she died. She had someone with her who cared about her, even if it was only for five minutes."

He met her gaze. He realized that this officer truly cared about the people she served. She returned his smile.

"Officer Carter, we need you over here," a tall, burly man called.

"I'll be right back," she promised, joining her colleagues.

Nathan couldn't stay here any longer. He walked away from the crime scene. He ignored his car, preferring to walk. He could see Anna's face, even now. The pain in her eyes cutting at him like a hot knife. Even as she laid on the dirty street, she had trusted him and he had failed her.

He collapsed on the curb as his exhaustion finally overwhelmed him. He buried his head in his arms as he his shoulders quivered. He finally unleashed all the grief and guilt he had been holding onto since Anna had been shot and he wept. Maybe Harold was right. Getting involved would only make things worse. A beep sounded from his phone. He pulled it out and looked at it. Speak of the devil, the Machine had contacted him with a new number.

He looked up at the camera, not caring about how stupid he looked talking to a security camera.

"Don't you get it?" He asked tiredly. "I tried and I failed. I'm not a hero."

The red light blinked relentlessly at him. Mercilessly digging at his soul. He looked down at the message, pinching his eyes in surprise. It was Anna's number. But Anna was already dead. Why send him the number of someone who was already dead? He looked up at the camera. Was the Machine trying to tell him something? Send him a message the only way it could?

What about Anna could make him feel better? She was dead because of him. But even lying on the dirty street, she hadn't blamed him. He smiled bitterly at the painful memory of her last words.

His head jerked up as he realized what the machine was trying to say. Anna's last words.

_Don't give up, Nathan. _She had said. That was the Machine's message.

Yes, he had failed to save her. And that failure would haunt him forever. But if he hadn't tried to save her, she would have died alone, abandoned in an alleyway where no one would even know where to find her. Like the officer had said, at least she had died knowing someone cared.

For Anna's sake, he would keep trying. It would most likely kill him in the end, but nothing was going to stop him from trying. Because now he had a promise to keep. He would fight to save them, but if all he could do was provide comfort for thier last moments, he would do that, too. It was the least he could do. He stood up, his eyes still moist as he disappeared into the night.

XxXxXxX

End notes: Anyway this is what I came up with. Like I said, it's never explicitly said what happened or how it ended. But I was under the impression that she had died. But who knows, maybe I could write a bonus chapter where she lives.

Also, I'm not totally sure about the timing I used for this story. I know that Carter was promoted sometime in 2009 and that was the year Nathan started helping the numbers on his own. But I did want a Carter cameo so I may have been a little flexible with the timing. Anyway, tell me what you think.


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